"How Do You Say-I love You"

My grandfather tells me the story of how he met my grandmother. He was a buyer for a perfume manufacturer in New York City. His job was to purchase bottles from various companies around the world. It had been ten years since World War II ended, and he was about to travel to Lohr am Main in Germany to purchase bottles for a new line of perfume.  But unfortunately, he does not speak German, and now his story begins…

           After talking with my travel agent, I hung up the phone and noticed George Anderson struggling toward his desk. His arms are loaded with notebooks and folders, with a cup of coffee perched precariously on top.

           I call out, “Hey, Geroge! Let me give you a hand with that.”   George thanks me as I remove the coffee and take a couple of books.

“Phew! I didn’t think I was gonna make it there for a minute!” George says while mopping his brow. 

George works in advertising. He mentions, “I suppose you’ve heard about the new line of perfume coming out this spring, Sweetpea Persuasion? I’m looking through some of these old campaign projects to see if I can use any of them again with a new twist. You know what I mean?”

“ Yeah, I’ve heard. In fact, I just got off the phone with the travel agent booking a flight to Lohr am Main, Germany. I’ve heard that there’s a small glass company specializing in making fancy bottles and jars. I’m going to set up a meeting for next week.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, George flops down into his chair. He screws up his face and sticks out his tongue, “Blah!” he says. “Coffee machine coffee is the worst, isn’t it, Ralph? But caffeine is caffeine!” So he shoots down the rest. Then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he continues, “Do you speak German, Ralph?  Unfortunately, some districts or counties, even hamlets, don’t speak English. So I’d advise you to go downstairs to the bookstore and get yourself one of those English-to-German handbooks. It might come in handy.”

Astonished, I admit I never thought of that. I’ve always dealt with people who spoke English. Then, with a bit of panic, I declare, “I don’t have time to learn German! I’m leaving next week!”

Leaning back in his chair, George rests his chin on his thumb and forefinger to  give the situation some thought, “You know, I’ve always thought that if you find yourself in a foreign country where you don’t know the language, it’s a good idea to know these three things.” George then begins to tick them off on his fingers. “One, Where do I sleep? Two, Where do I eat? And three, and most importantly, Where’s the bathroom? So if you can say these three sentences and pronounce them clearly, you should be alright.”

I’m dubious that any of these phrases will help me in a meeting, though the bathroom one might work.  So I thank George for his help and head downstairs to the bookstore.

                                                         …

Aboard my eight-hour flight to Germany, I scan through my “German made Easy” handbook.  I soon discover that there is no “Easy” in German. All the words are twenty-four letters long and are impossible to pronounce. So I try hard to learn the three phases George told me. The person sitting next to me watches as I stumbled through the book until I ask him if he is German. He replies that he is not and speaks just enough to get by. “Where do I sleep? Where can I eat? And most importantly, Where is the bathroom?”

I stare at him for a full minute, wondering if I should ask if he knows George. But instead, I ask him if he can recite those phrases so I can learn how to pronounce them correctly, and he agrees.

When we land in Frankurt, I wish him good luck and go to the information booth to find out how I might get to Lohr am Main. I’m told I need to take the train and it will take about an hour and forty-three minutes to get there. However, the clerk also added it would be via Aschaffenburg H6f, whatever that means, so I nod as if I understand. He points the way to the train station, and I head off in that direction feeling a bit uneasy and alone.

As I approach the ticket booth, I see the clerk standing inside. He doesn’t greet me but stares at me. Weakly I smile and say, “I’d like to purchase a ticket, please.”  He practically rolls his eyes as he sighs, “And vhere vould you like to go?” My face flushes, and I feel like an idiot as I stammer, “Oh, um, Lohr am Main, please.” I hand him my Diners Club card, which he takes, prints out my ticket, and hands them back to me without another word. I start to thank him, but before I can finish, he calls, “Next!” even though there is no one behind me. Walking toward the train, I think, “What a grouch.”

I’m delighted that no one is sitting beside me, thus avoiding awkward conversation. However, I notice many passengers either reading the evening newspaper or finishing some last-minute office work. Others rest their eyes until we arrive. So I discreetly remove my “German made Easy” handbook to continue to try and memorize some of the easier words like hello and thank you. I check my watch as I feel the train lurch and notice we leave precisely on time.

The beautiful scenery slipping past the train window drags my attention from my handbook of translations. It looks mostly like farmland with open fields spotted with small clusters of cows grazing as the sun sinks behind the oaks and hemlocks with golden rays of light streaming through their branches. While I look, my eyes grow heavy and slowly close. Soon I become aware that the train is starting to slow. When we pull to a stop, I recheck my watch and see the ride lasted one hour and forty-three minutes. I think to myself, “Damn precise, these Germans!”

Stepping onto the station platform, I watch some passengers rush to the cars while others walk toward an exit at the end of the parking lot. Perhaps they’ll get a bus or a cab to take them home, or maybe a loved one is waiting for them. I put on my topcoat and head that way too. Sure enough, there is Lohr. Looking up and down the street, I see many neon signs lit up, but they are all in German.

Moreover, a thick fog has moved in, casting halo’s around the signs and creating light cones beneath the street lamps.   At a loss as to what to do, I reach for my handbook to ask someone for help if need be. As I search the pockets of my overcoat, my heart starts to sink. It’s not there! I must have dropped it when I was dozing on the train.  Damn! What am I going to do now? I hear heels clicking on the sidewalk and look up to see a lady walking in my direction. 

“OH, um, Excuse me, Fraulein?” Upon hearing my English and terrible German, she stops before me. My heart is feeling strange, for I find this lady most attractive. She is about five-four and has light auburn hair sprinkled with dew from the fog.  The soft green scarf she wears complements her hazel eyes perfectly. Her complexion is almost alabaster, and her lips are full with a light shade of red lipstick. They curl slightly to the right in a quizzical sort of smile. I notice her expression slipping from curiosity to worry, and I quickly stammer out my question. 

 My voice quakes and cracks as I ask, “Wo ist hotel, bitte?”  Her pretty face seems to light up with understanding as she says, “ Oh!” “Ja!”  She approaches my left side and leans close to me, and points. “Gasthef Spessart. Hotel, ja?” 

I shamefully try to repeat it. “The Gasterif Spiss—” Laughing, she says, “Gasthef Spessart.” Then she slips her arm into mine and gestures that I should follow her by saying, “Bitte.”

We briskly walk to the hotel and, upon entering, she greets the desk clerk, “Gitem abemd, Schreibermister!” She next explains that I’m an American (for I heard her say American) in need of a room. The clerk must have asked her how many nights. She turns to me and shrugs.  Next, she begins holding up fingers, one, two, three. When I understand what she wants, I turn to the clerk and hold up one finger. Having gotten the message across, everyone smiles, and I hand him my Diners Club card. The “schreibermister” pushes the register toward me to sign, and as I do, I notice my companion trying to read my name.

I explain, “That’s me, Ralph Smith.” She blinks a few times as she tries to process what she has just heard. Then with a slight smile, repeats, “Rolf Schmitt?” I smile and say, “Close enough.” Then, pointing to her, I ask, “And you?” Understanding what I have asked, she drops her head slightly and gives me a shy sideways glance, “Evonne Altenhofen.” 

“That’s a lovely name!” I say, extending my hand. As we shake, the aroma of the food wafting in from the dining room causes my stomach to growl loudly. Surprised, Evonne covers her mouth with her fingertips and giggles. I laugh as well, pointing to the dining room and gesturing back and forth between us. She holds her palms out in front of herself and responds, “Nien.”  I make a pouty face and press my hands together as if in prayer. Evonne accepts, “Danke.”

The waiter takes us to a table for two in a quiet, cozy corner of the dining room. Then, lighting the candle on the table, he bows and leaves. Evonne and I smile at each other, and I rub my hands together and pick up my menu. Evonne watches my face with amusement as I scan the listings of meals. I finally show her a look of total confusion that causes her to laugh out loud. Then, taking my menu from me, she “Mmms” and gestures to the waiter. When he arrives, she points to two items on the menu and thanks him.

Things have become more difficult now that the ordering is out of the way. I reach down to my attache case, remove a small vile of perfume, and place it on the table along with my business card. Evonne looks at the name on the card and frowns, “Ralph?” I point to the company name and try to pantomime that this is where I work. Like a game of charades, I point to my eye and try to look like I’m working. Finally, I playact paying for something while picking up the perfume. I then push the vile closer to her, hoping she can figure it all out.

She picks up the vile and opens it. Then, smelling it, she blinks and says, “Nicht Sauer.”   Slowly shaking my head, I ask, Nein?” She quickly replies, “Nein, nein.” She then pauses to think. At last, she leans across the table, smiling demurely, “Sweet.” Evonne then asks in German, “Arbeit kaufen parfumflachen?” I assume she has figured out my interpretation and nod yes.

And that’s how our conversation goes—a series of pantomimes and drawings on napkins. Oh, how we laugh. The three-piece band begins to play a waltz, and I can tell she enjoys it by the look in her eye. So, I stand and offer her my hand to join me in a dance. She accepts. We dance three more, the last being a slow, romantic song. I place my hand firmly on her waist and pull her closer. She lays her head on my shoulder as we sway to the music.

After the last dance, Evonne finds a way to let me know she must go home. I make a walking motion with my fingers to show her that I would like to walk her home. Evonne smiles, takes a paper napkin and draws a little map from the hotel to her apartment house so I can find my way back. Before we leave, I write my telephone number on the back of my business card and hand it to her. She writes hers on the back of the napkin.

We quietly stroll arm-in-arm down the avenue for about ten minutes when she stops and looks up at the front door of an apartment building. I step back and take her hands in mine, “Gut abend, Evonne.” Evonne steps closer, saying, “Gut abend, Rolf.” Then standing on her tiptoes kisses me on the cheek.  She then turns and starts to climb the stairs. When she reaches the second step, I yell, “How do you say I love you?!”  Evonne turns, races back down the stairs, throws her arms around my neck and kisses me. Then, leaning back, she smiles and softly says, “Ich Liebe Dich.”

                                                                …

My grandfather leans back in his recliner and continues.

“When I returned home, I immediately started arranging to get your grandmother to the United States. She arrived here about a month later, and the first thing we did was get married. We stayed together for fifty years before she died seven years ago.”

Looking at my grandfather, I have to ask, “Did you ever learn to speak German?”

With a whimsical look in his eyes, he raises his big white bushy eyebrows and says dryly, “Nein.”